


Impulse

by shunnedfreak



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, Oral Sex, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-15
Updated: 2017-04-15
Packaged: 2018-10-19 08:34:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10636203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shunnedfreak/pseuds/shunnedfreak
Summary: It is curious how a single deviance in routine can open doors to places one never even dreamed of.Bard and Thranduil are two lonely men seeking a change of pace. One fateful night and everything changes. Hopefully for the better.





	

**Author's Note:**

> The characters are not mine, but I like to stare into space and imagine them in different situations :P

Thranduil walks into the first establishment he sees.

It is different from what he is used to. Where the places he frequents are full of dark wood and tasteful lightning, the one he steps into is smoky, the only lighting they have comes from scattered light bulbs that provide weak light. He is glad that he has dressed down, for he is sure that his usual fare of tailored shirts and formal trousers would stand out among flannel and t-shirts. But Thranduil is not here for the patrons. He is here because he needs a change of pace. Maybe this year he would spend the day after the anniversary of his wife's death doing something other than wallowing at home. Maybe this year he would wallow around other people.

Thranduil strides up to an empty space at the bar, signals the bartender and orders a cognac. The man mutters, presumably about the request but ultimately serves him, which is all that Thranduil cares about. When he receives the drink, he judges it to be sub par, as is to be expected. Fitting for a day such as this.

He is on his second drink when someone occupies the stool beside him and says, "How’d you get him to serve anything but the house beer? "

Thranduil turns to the speaker and immediately feels his mouth turn dry. "Pardon?". The man - __and what a man he was-__  leans a little closer and smiles rakishly at him, his cologne reaching Thranduil's nose and enticing him closer despite himself. "Well, I've been coming here for years, and not once has he served me - or anyone else- anything other than beer. So tell me, how did you do it?" Thranduil's eyes follow the path of the man's nicely muscled hand as he lifts the mug of beer towards his mouth. A pink mouth that is framed by a scruffy beard. It is astounding how the right man can make Thranduil's position on facial hair veer immediately to enthusiasm.

"I did not have to do anything. I simply ordered a cognac." The man- and really, neither of them have introduced themselves yet- gives him a lingering look that sets Thranduil's blood alight. "You do look like someone that gets whatever they want. " Thranduil feels his mouth go tight. It is no secret what people think when they see him. And most of the time he understands. With his long white blond hair that he keeps in a pristine flow down his back, his tall stature and strong features, not to mention his distinct air of bourgeois, it is no wonder that many come to a certain conclusion. A mostly correct one.

When his wife was still alive, and he had still been happy, the opinions of the masses had no bearing on him. Now with the loss of his wife, the world seemed harsher, with edges so sharp it could cut. It certainly felt like it most days, particularly the fist few years after his beloved's death.

And right now, a mere day after his wife's death anniversary, with a stranger - albeit a handsome one - already assuming things about him, it felt a little more raw than usual. So he turns away from the man and moves to pay for his drinks. Perhaps it was time to call it a night.

The stranger must sense that he has offended somehow and rushes to rectify his mistake. He stands up from the bar stool and reaches over, his hand stopping midway from Thranduil's chest. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean anything by what I said. It's just-”,the man cuts himself off before taking a deep breath and tries again, “I was actually trying to flirt." At this, the man colours, and pulls back his hand to scratch at his dark hair which was casually pulled up in half a bun. He really is gorgeous and Thranduil takes the time to study him. He is wearing a simple black shirt that is tight enough to show off his defined arms and hints of a toned stomach. The jeans he wears are faded, showcasing his impressive thighs. But it is his face that draws Thranduil. There's a warmth to it that makes Thranduil want to know him. Most beautiful are his grey eyes, framed with crow's feet every time he smiles.

Thranduil reconsiders. "I... You were trying to flirt?" The man nods. “I'm sorry that I'm doing a poor job of it. " Thranduil shakes his head. "No, no. I may be at fault as well. I have taken offense when you clearly meant none." The man smiles, bringing out those delightful crow's feet and renewed twinkling of his eyes. He reaches out his hand and says, "My name is Bard, glad to meet you."

 

Thranduil takes the outstretched hand. His stomach tightens at the firm and calloused grip. “Thranduil. As for being glad to meet you... That is yet to be determined." Thranduil gives a smirk that widens when the man's- __Bard__ \- eyes heat. It seems that he likes them with a little bite. This, Thranduil can provide.

 

They both return to their seats and order more drinks. Thranduil immediately feels uncomfortable. It is one thing to have a conversation with a person and another to continue when you both know you might both end up in each other's bed by the end of the night. It has been a long time since he engaged in flirting and even the occasional lover he had taken over the years of his wife's death, has been few and far in between. He feels lost, almost like a virgin on her wedding night. He hates feeling like the situation is out of his control.

 

Thankfully, Bard saves him from looking like a inexperienced fool by asking if it was his first time here. All delivered with the same eye crinkle and sparkle. Thranduil smirks at the obvious line and replies in the affirmative and that he usually does not go out, but today called for something new.

 

"I'm grateful then for whatever caused you to decide to come here and I got to meet you. " Thranduil looks down on his drink, before he speaks. "It is actually the day after my wife's 8th death anniversary. I usually stay in or work. But this time…This time I thought I should try something different. " Bard cringes at seeming to cause another conversational pitfall. "I'm sorry... I did not- what I mean is-" Bard cuts himself off and rubs his face with one hand. "I don't mean to undermine your pain... But I had a wife as well. She died 5 years ago. She... She was everything. "

 

At this admission, Thranduil looks at Bard. He is already pleasing to the eye, but after knowing that they share the same experience, Thranduil feels closer to the man. It is no longer a superficial attraction that draws them to each other, but their connection is the one of two people who have gone through the same anguish of loosing a spouse.

 

They lean towards each other and Thranduil learns of Bard and his family. That the man has three children, his youngest, Tilda, only three when his wife died, his son Bain, trying so hard to be like his Da, and Sigrid who went from a sweet young girl to a responsible woman whom ran the household. They are the light of his life.

 

In turn, Thranduil speaks of Legolas and how he loves the boy. He even finds himself sharing his fear of being a failure of a father, as he believes -knows - his wife would have done a better job. Bard's thigh has somehow ended between both of his, and the warmth of the contact is just as comforting as the Bard's reassurance of his competence as a father.

 

"In the end, we can only do our best and hope that it's enough." Thranduil smiles at this. Bard is right of course. And Legolas is one of the best child a parent could ask for, so really he only has to not fail too much, and his son will be fine.

 

Thranduil glances around the pub. He has forgotten for a moment where they are. They have been so immersed in each other that their surroundings had faded. He thinks of their topic of conversation and reflects that it is unusual for a place like this. But it is the very topic that causes Thranduil to make his next decision. Whom better to this with, than someone who understands the certain loneliness being a widower and a single father can bring?

 

So Thranduil gathers his courage and looks Bard in eye. "Would you like to go somewhere else?" He watches as Bard swallows hard at that. The attraction has been brewing between them since the moment they saw the other. Suddenly Thranduil is nervous. He does not quite do this, but the possibility of Bard turning him down is terrifying. He needs this. He wants Bard even just for tonight. He has been so lonely this past years, not connecting with anyone like he did with Bard tonight. Thranduil is acutely aware of how long since he has been intimate with someone and the need for another human's touch is almost visceral.

 

Blissfully, Bard says yes. And by the look in his eyes, the way they linger, assuage any doubts that Thranduil has of his enthusiasm. They have not even touched much yet, but Thranduil already burns for the want of him.

 

Bard stands while Thranduil pays, and together they leave the pub.

 

Thranduil's heart beats faster than it has for a long time.

 

~o~

 

Bard can't quite believe how his night is going. How does he end up with a guy this beautiful?

 

The night had started out fairly normal, his plans had been to have a couple of beers and an early night after he'd dropped off the kids to their various sleepovers. Unlike Bard, his children had roaring social lives that made it so they we're out of the house all at once. Bain had a Boy Scout event that required camping. When Tilda had heard of this, she'd begged to be allowed her own sleepover with the kind old lady with the many cats, who babysat her sometimes. Sigrid had taken the chance to go out herself when it became clear that all her younger siblings were leaving the house and she wouldn't be needed to watch them. She was level-headed enough that it didn't even cross Bard's mind to say no.

 

With the whirlwind chaos of his children gone it resulted in Bard rattling around in a suddenly empty and achingly quiet house. What seemed like a blissful prospect of relaxing night alone, was turning sour by the minute. He'd tried to watch a show and when that failed to keep his attention he'd turned his attention to reading a book. When the heroine of the book had waxed poetic about her beau, highlighting the fact that Bard was at home on a Friday night while a book character was having the time of her life, Bard gave it all up as a bad job.

 

So Bard paced, realizing he was lonely. Terribly, depressingly, lonely. His daily life consisted of rushing to work, rushing around __at__ work, and more rushing around when he got home to take care of his kids. The only time he had for himself was the time he bathed, maybe tossing off in the shower if he had the strength, and after that, pouring himself into bed, exhausted after the whole day.

 

When he wakes up, he does it all over again.

 

Take away his children and Bard is faced with the sobering reality that he barely has a life out of them. Sure he has friends and co-workers, but none of them were people he is particularly close to.

 

In an effort to convince himself that does have a life outside his family, Bard decides to go out. He showers and picks a fairly descent outfit. Both the T-shirt and the jeans are years old, but he thinks they look fine. He remembers that he never wears the black T-shirt he's chosen because it shrunk in the wash. It's tightness, though,is appropriate for the night. Lastly, Bard ties up half of his hair to keep it off his face.

 

He's almost to the door when he turns back. It's not that he's planning to use them, but safe is better than sorry. So he picks up packets of condoms and some lube. It feels vaguely sleazy - for some absurd reason-, not to mention presumptuous, to bring such things, but he's a grown man and any weirdness he feels is because it has been a long time since he went out to pull.

 

Bard first stop had been to some hip bar that his colleagues had talked about. Inside was overly loud and too bright, filled with young people in various states of undress. Bard was out faster than the time it took him to get in.

 

He ended up in his favorite joint and the first step in was a balm to his senses. It's interior was dim enough to give it a cozy feel and the sight of familiar customers made his unconsciously tense shoulders relax. He'd ordered a beer since it was all the grumpy bar man would serve and settled himself at his second regular spot at the corner of the room.

 

And then he walked in.

 

Bard nearly choked and killed himself on his drink when he first saw the man he'd later find out was named Thranduil.

 

Bard didn't have a type. His attraction to people is based on their personality. Sure he appreciated a good looking person here and there, but to truly catch his attention, Bard needed to get to know a person first.

 

But this man… this man blew past all his hung ups and became the very definition of Bard's type the few moments it took him to sweep his blue eyes over the room. By the time his long legs took him to the bar, thick luscious blond hair trailing behind him, Bard wanted - no __needed__ \- him, all without hearing the man speak.

 

The man finishes one drink before Bard steels himself enough to approach him. Plans of just having a drink and calling it a night, flies out the window and Bard finds himself beside the man, flirting awkwardly. And fuck his voice. Deep and smooth, almost jarring from such a refined face, but fitting all the same.

 

He nearly blows it, without knowing the reason why, but thankfully the man allows him another shot. His name is Thranduil, and it suits the man in so many ways.

 

They talk. And if Bard was attracted to him before, now he's lamenting why it is only now he's met the guy. Their similarities in their life alone is enough to make Bard stay, the man himself keeps him wanting more.

 

When Thranduil, almost timidly, asks him if he'd like to leave with him, Bard nearly burns with the heat the question rises in him. He barely keeps in check the desire to grab Thranduil's wrist and drag him out of there.

 

Standing up and walking casually out of the pub is an exercise in self control. He's so focused on not mauling Thranduil, that he vaguely registers the ride to the a nearby hotel, checking in an ignoring the knowing glint into the receptionist's eye.

 

The elevator ride to their room is a sweet type of pain. They're standing close and all this time, the scorching glances Thranduil sends him has Bard raring to go. With his position behind Thranduil he can smell his expensive perfume, masculine, with a hint of something sweet. Bard can hardly keep himself from pressing his nose behind Thranduil's ear, so he can smell more of that delightful scent. And maybe see if the action will cause Thranduil's blush to darken and spread down his neck.

 

The interminable trip ends when with enviably steady hands, Thranduil opens the door to their room and closes it once Bard is in.

 

They both turn to each other and even in the low light of the room, Bard can see that Thranduil is suddenly apprehensive. So he asks, even when he thinks he might die if Thranduil says no, he still asks.

 

"Do you want this,Thranduil? We can stop, nothing has to happen." That seems to steady the blond man. He crosses the distance between them as he says, "Yes Bard, I want this." And Bard is grateful, so grateful that he drags Thranduil close and molds him tight enough to his body that it's nearly painful. All other thoughts and concerns dissolve at the first touch of their lips.

 

The taste of Thranduil is like a cool drink in a hot summer day. He knew he was lonely, but the feel of another human being so close to him is overwhelming. He feels Thranduil shudder and whatever self control Bard has shatters in an instant. The kiss turns goes from exploratory to near violent.

 

Bard bites into Thranduil's mouth, tangling their tongues trying to taste and have as much of Thranduil as he can. Sliding his hand into Thranduil's hair brings a whole host of heavenly sensations, as his hair feels just as good as it looks. And when Bard gives it a tug, Thranduil moans and becomes putty in his hands. He breaks the kiss and tilts Thranduil's head so he can press a kiss to the hinge of his jaw, down his delectable neck and eventually bite into the junction of his shoulder and neck. Thranduil gives another throaty moan at that and Bard could die happy.

 

He is less happy when Thranduil suddenly pushes him away and bypasses him towards the bed. Before Bard can gather his wits and inquire as to what is wrong, Thranduil turns around and Bard can see that he's striping.

 

With each button released by Thranduil's elegant fingers, Bard looses a little bit of his sanity. What is revealed is pale white skin that begs to be marked, preferably with teeth and mouth. He's nearly drooling when Thranduil discards his shirt and starts with his perfectly fitted grey slacks. The sound of the zipper slowly being lowered has his cock twitching eagerly.

 

And fuck, but aren't those legs perfect. Miles and miles of creamy white legs are uncovered and Bard really wants them around his waist. Thranduil makes to remove his -very flattering- briefs. Bard strides quickly to where Thranduil is, giving him another hungry kiss, before he pushes him down.

 

"If you don't mind, I'd like to take that off you." Thranduil looks up, the reversal of heights and the coy look Thranduil shoots Bard is hotter than expected.

 

Thranduil leans back, his hair cascading off his shoulder. He's beautiful in every way and Bard can't wait to ravish him. "I am all yours, Bard."

 

Bard has never gotten out of his clothes so fast.

 

When he's naked but for his boxers, Bard kneels between Thranduil's splayed thighs. He kisses him again, and really he could stay here all day. But Thranduil has other features that need his attention. Like his long graceful neck, his toned arms and pert pink nipples, nicely muscled stomach, and surprisingly cute belly button... All the while Thranduil sighs and moans in encouragement.

 

Bard finds himself on his kneeling on the floor, by the edge of the bed, his face at the perfect height to admire Thranduil's clothed erection. There’s a damp spot on the briefs, and Bard sets to mouthing at the length behind the cloth. He suckles at the damp spot making it wetter. Judging from Thranduil's breathy moans, he's enjoying it just as much as Bard.

 

When he's satisfied with how wet the briefs are, he peels them off. They both groan at the sight. Thranduil's cock is as attractive as the rest of him . It's long and with a slight lean to the right and Bard can't wait to put it in his mouth.

 

He takes a a hold of Thranduil's cock and guides it to his mouth. The taste of precome has Bard sucking hard. He chokes when Thranduil cries out and his hips buck up. Thranduil gasps out an apology as Bard holds down his hips and tries again.

 

It goes smoother this time. Bard loosing himself in the rhythm of sucks and licks, interspersed with broad strokes if his hand, as he listens to the music of Thranduil's cries.

 

When he looses his breath, Bard pulls off Thranduil's cock and nuzzles his delicious balls. He takes one sac into his mouth and then the other before moving lower and lower...

 

Thranduil sobs when Bard licks deeply into his hole, giving broad strokes until he feels his tongue sink into Thranduil's molten heat. Bard groans when he feels saliva drip down his chin. He can't for the life of him resist reaching down and taking out his cock. He grips the sensitive head and fucks into his hand groaning at the relief of finally touching himself.

 

Thranduil reaches down and buries his fingers in Bard's hair, pushing Bard's head away. "Bard-!" Bard looks up and to see Thranduil with one hand squeezing his cock and the other gripping his hair. He looks so debauched with his glazed eyes and his lips bitten red and plump, "Bard please, I want to come when you fuck me." Bard presses a quick kiss to the pale thigh nearest him, after a request like that, Bard will be damned of he wastes anymore time.

 

He discards his boxers and his engorged cock slaps his belly, making him hiss. Bard is aware of Thranduil's heated gaze as he goes to retrieve the condoms and lube.

 

One of Thranduil's expressive brows rise at the items in his hand. "Quite confident on how your night would turn out, Bard? " The dark haired man colours at that. How is it fair that he could sound so composed when he's reclined on the bed, flushed and dripping from Bard’s attention?

 

And here's Bard about ready to explode.

 

But two can play that game. "I wasn't, actually, but I thought I'd rather be prepared. You should he happy, if I hadn't brought anything, this wouldn't be happening right now. "

 

Thranduil smirks, an expression that seemed directly connected to Bard's cock, before he extends a hand that Bard takes. Separating for a little while allowed their passions to cool a touch. So when Bard pushes Thranduil down on the bed with his body, their movements are slower, more indulgent. Their hands are intertwined, bodies pressed from chest to feet, kissing like they have all the time in the world. It's decadent, taking time to get to known each other's bodies like this. They both know how the night will end. No need to rush.

 

Thranduil nudges him with something and when Bard turns to look, he sees the tube of lube open, ready for his hand. He let's Thranduil give him a palm-full before he reaches between their bodies. Thranduil's a little loose from his tongue and he bites his lip when he pushes a finger in. Thranduil gives a pleased hum and raises a leg, giving Bard more room. "More, Bard." Encouraged, Bard moves his finger around, spreading the lube, before he adds another finger. Thranduil winces a bit, which Bard soothes with a gentle kiss to his cheek. His pleasure takes a back seat to Thranduil's, so Bard sets about looking for that little knob that will have Thranduil moaning harder. He knows he's successful when Thranduil's back arches and his mouth opens in a gasp, his hole clenching sweetly around Bard's fingers.

 

Bard prepares Thranduil thoroughly, scissoring his fingers and rubbing that perfect spot in the blond man beneath him. They're both more than ready by the time Bard is three fingers in Thranduil, so Bard hastily rips open a condom and quickly rolls it on. When that is done, he urges his lover into his stomach, murmuring it would be easier.

 

He's spreading Thranduil's rosy cheeks when the said man grasps Bard's wrist.

 

"Go-, go slow Bard, it has been a while." Bard swallows hard at that, before he reassures Thranduil. " It's been a while for me too. I'll be careful." He pushes a curtain of flaxen hair off Thranduil's shoulder, and kisses his neck in reassurance. "Thank you, Bard. "

 

Bard presses the head of his cock to Thranduil's pretty hole. He rubs at it for a while, mesmerized by how the Thranduil's hole clutches at his cock hungrily. When he's teased them both enough, Bard pushes in.

 

He almost bites through his tongue.

 

Thranduil is tight, even after all the prep done. He feels so perfect that Bard swears he forgets to breathe for a moment. He’s not the star of his show, though, so he checks on Thranduil. Thankfully he’s told to go on. He’d at least like to bottom out before he comes and with how good Thranduil feels sheathed around his cockhead, Bard’s in danger of finishing fast if he lingers anymore.

He gently pushes all the way in. He pauses and runs a possessive hand along Thranduil’s side, as shudders racks through his body. When they’ve both caught their breaths, Bard moves.

 

He sets a pace that brings out all the best noises from Thranduil, and has Bard seeing stars. Everything is so good. So excellent that Bard prays it never ends.

 

They’re both perspiring causing their bodies to rub in a delicious slide. But Bard cant get enough, he wants to be deeper in Thranduil, so deep he leaves a mark.

 

Bard sits back up unto his knees, pulling Thranduil with him, knees spread along Bard’s thighs and back plastered to Bards chest. The angle changes and Bard sinks deeper into his lover. The moan Thranduil gives is so pretty that Bard fights hard to not come at the sound.

 

He braces his hand across Thranduil’s chest and tilts his head to the side, all the better to mouth at the neck and shoulders already littered with bruises form his earlier ministrations.

 

Bard’s hand slides up Thranduil’s thigh to grasp at the blond’s cock. He resumes fucking into Thranduil. He can’t really move at this position, but being buried into Thranduil’s heat and feeling him writhe is worth it.

 

They’re rocking so beautifully together. Pressed so tightly, sweat causing their bodies to glide against each other. . Bard indulges his earlier desire to scent the blond. Thranduil, if possible, smells even better than before.

 

His close, so close, and he wants Thranduil to know what he does to him. “Thranduil.” He pauses to lick at the sweat gathered at Thranduil’s temple, “Thranduil, fuck, I want you to come. I want you to come around my cock and feel you tighten around me. I bet you’d look even more beautiful than you do now.” Thranduil whimpers at Bard’s words, clenching deliciously around his cock.

 

Thranduil’s head falls back on Bard’s shoulder. His eyes are squeezed shut and mouth open in continuous gasp. Bard can’t resist kissing him. Sucking on his tongue, and fucking his mouth to the same rhythm of his hips.

 

He feels Thranduil shake, even as the latter pulls his head away and gives a sharp cry of Bard’s name. Bard is indeed right. Thranduil does look beautiful when he comes, and he feels even better around his cock. Coming is almost an after thought to the sight he is treated to, but nevertheless, Bard sees stars.

 

When his vision clears, Bard allows his cock to slip out, to which Thranduil gives a sigh. He slowly guides them to the bed.

 

When he has gathered his wits, Bard tries to untangle himself from the blond.

 

“Bard, where are you going?” Thranduil’s hold around his arm is quite strong even as blue eyes struggle to open. Bard feels a fondness even as he answers.

 

“I’m just going to get something to clean us up.” He watches as Thranduil blushes and lets him go. So Bard leans in gives him a lingering kiss. Thranduil isn’t the only one who wants to stay close.

 

Bard stumbles towards the bathroom. He manages to locate the light switch with minimal fumbling and proceeds to sloppily wipe himself off.

 

He’s back to Thranduil’s side with a warm wet towel. Cleaning of Thranduil feels even more intimate than having sex with him. And if the renewed reddening of Thranduil’s face and chest is any indication, he isn’t the only one feeling it.

 

Bard is tempted to discard the towel unto the carpet and get into the bed. But the cleaning staff will already have to deal with the mess they made on the bed, a damp towel with suspicious white substance on the carpet is just insult upon injury.

 

With the towel deposited in the bathroom, Bard finally settles himself unto the bed with Thranduil. The blond wastes no time to mold himself into Bard’s arms, before settling with a sigh.

 

Bard holds Thranduil close as he combs through light coloured hair. They’re quiet for a while before Thranduil breaks the silence.

 

“I now am glad I met you.”

 

Bard can’t help the laugh the bubbles out of him.

 

Thranduil joining in the laughter makes it only better.

 

~o~

 

It is still dark when Thranduil moves from the comfort of Bard’s arms. He is reluctant to do so, but he would like to be home before Legolas wakes up. Also, he needs to be at work in a few hours. Neglecting his life in favor of staying few moments in bed with Bard, no matter how tempting, just wont do.

 

Thranduil thinks about the night he had. He had woken Bard in the middle of the night just so he could ride him into ecstasy. It was intoxicating how Bard had gazed up at him in awe and lust. He felt powerful and desired. If Thranduil was still sore from the fucking he had earlier, well it made feeling Bard’s thick cock spear through him so much better.

 

He feels eyes on him as he locates his clothes and puts them on. Thranduil runs a hand through his hair before he turns around to see Bard slide off the bed to meet him at the vanity desk. Thranduil lets his eyes sweep over the man before him and allows himself a small sigh at the thought that he really has no time indulge more in Bard.

 

“I like your hair better when its loose.” Bard fingers the ends of the braid Thranduil has pulled his hair into.

 

“You did show a fixation for it last night.” He smiles down at the scant distance between Bard’s eyes and his.

 

“You’re leaving.” Bard says it as a statement. He looks just as reluctant to let Thranduil go as Thranduil is to leave.

 

So Thranduil leans in to kiss Bard slowly and deeply.

 

It tastes bittersweet.

 

“I thoroughly enjoyed our time together, Bard. I…” Thranduil hesitates. Does he truly want to do this? He went out to forget his heart break, met a man he impulsively slept with and now he is about to suggest seeing each other again. He fears that this night would not seem as magical as it was when time has passed.

 

None of his actions tonight have been his usual way of doing things. He did not randomly sleep with people. He did not follow them to the first hotel he sees and proceed to have the most mind-blowing sex. He did not cuddle with them like the sex was just a bonus and the true end point was to laze in each other arms, almost as if they have been doing it forever.

 

He most definitely did not consider exchanging contact numbers and wanting to see them outside the context of a bedroom and a bar.

 

But Bard does not seem to have his misgivings. There is a glint of determination in is eye when he speaks. “I’d like to see you again Thranduil. Will you give me your number?”

 

Thranduil has denied himself for so long, he would be a fool to refuse this. As with how all his interactions with Bard seems to go, Thranduil seems to find himself swept up in the dark haired man’s flow.

 

They exchange numbers and more lingering kisses.

 

“I do need to go, Bard. Call me?” He whispers his words to Bard’s lips and when he receives an affirmative, Thranduil gives him another peck before he steps away. If he stays any longer, he would be tempted to never leave.

 

Bard tells him he would take care of the room and wishes him safety as he leaves the room.

 

~o~

 

Thranduil did not expect to see Bard so soon.

 

One moment he is encoding information on a patient's chart, and the next his eyes are connecting with equally shocked grey eyes.

 

He had gone home that morning after that memorable tryst with Bard and had time for a quick nap before he had to shower and thank the nanny for staying the night. He rarely needed her to watch over Legolas, but he is grateful she was able to take over when he was sure Legolas was asleep for the night.

 

His son seemed fine considering what the day before was. In fact he was full of chatter about the movie they watched and the bedtime story they read. He made sure to be there for such things no matter how tired he was from work.

 

Thranduil knows that he was not a good father the first few years of his son's life. He had relied on nannies and drowned himself in work just so he could forget the loss of his wife. It did not help that while Legolas looked like him, his whole personality was his wife. His son was bubbly and radiant, just so happy with life that it hurt to look at him.

 

He realized what he was missing when he came home to his son laughing with his nanny. They were making a costume for some event Thranduil had no idea about. It hit him that his son's life was passing him by and he was not there to even see it, much less participate.

 

It was not just him who lost someone, but also his son, who lost a mother. From then on, he vowed to be a better father. Any hurt he felt, he shoved to the back of his heart, left to fester and rot, away from the parts where he loved his son.

 

If he barely got himself together enough to take care of his son as he deserved, finding and getting into a new romantic relationship was beyond him.

 

He may have given Bard his number, and hoped that one of them would call, but the cynical part of him that believed the beauty of that night would fade with time, had won. And each day that passed with no word from Bard, made Thranduil even more hesitant to make the first overture.

 

He was in the process of delegating that wonderful night into one of his treasured but forever unattainable memories when he meets Bard again.

 

Finding himself face to face with Bard in less than three days is shocking. It felt more real, away from the haze of alcohol and dim lights of the hotel room. Somehow it feels more dangerous. Thranduil barely registers the nurse’s scrubs worn by Bard before he blurts out, "You did not call." He only manages to to hide his cringe from his words.

 

"Neither did you." Bard's stunned expression has morphed to what seems like wonder as he takes in Thranduil's white coat.

 

Thranduil licks his lips, "I was...unsure. I hoped you would spare me and call instead."

 

Bard raises his left hand to rub at his nape. "Same. " He huffs out a laugh. " We're both idiots." Thranduil smirks at that.

 

They fall silent and stare at each other for long enough that Thranduil can feel the judgment coming from one of the nurses - Thorin or something- which prompts him to speak.

 

"You have not been working in this station before." The __I would have noticed if you__ _ _did__ goes unsaid.

 

Bard seems to have heard the silent words for he leans into the nurses counter, bringing them closer than strictly appropriate. He is smiling when he answers Thranduil.

 

"Yea, I was in the Pediatrics department, but they said ICU was understaffed and they needed a new Head Nurse. I was the one picked to replace Master."

 

Thranduil nods his head. He heard a rumor that one of the Head Nurses in the Intensive Care department was caught appropriating medications. He never liked the man, he was lazy and frankly incompetent. He despises looking down on his colleagues, but if there was someone of which he can say that did not deserve the title of "nurse ", it was Master.

 

"How long will you be staying here?" Thranduil tries not to seem so invested but he suspects he fails when Bard's eyes track the movement of his fingers in the French braid he has pulled his hair into.

 

"Permanently, I think." Thranduil looks at Bard through his lashes, to find himself being watched. He plays with the pen he catches sight of, twirling and passing it from hand to hand. Bard's hand inches closer to Thranduil's. It stops a hairbreadth away, just enough for Thranduil to feel the warmth radiating from his skin. The thought that the very same hand was three fingers deep in him just a few days prior, makes Thranduil's face burn.

 

"Have coffee with me. Or lunch. Dinner. Something. Let’s make it up to each other for not calling." Thranduil's already nodding at all the suggestions.

 

"When do you get off? I should be finished after 6 PM.”

 

Bard somehow pulls off elated and disappointed at the same time. “My shift just started…But I can take a break around the same time you get off? That way we can have dinner.”

 

Thranduil agrees to this. He finds himself tapping the pen at something that gives of a slight __chink__  and he remembers that he is suppose to be putting down his observations on his patients.

 

Goodness sake. He meets his one night stand, and suddenly he forgets years of training.

 

Another nurse passes by the station, and it jars them back into into action.

 

“Oh, sorry Thran- I mean, doctor. I did not mean to keep you. I’ll just- um- meet you later?”

 

He would like Bard to keep calling him by his name, but they are in a working environment and a professional distance must be kept. Especially if Bard will insist on looking at him like that.

 

“Yes. I suggest the cafe two blocks from the hospital?”

 

Bard quickly agrees.

 

They spend the rest of the time sharing sly expectant gazes and finding excuses to bump into each other when ever they are close enough.

 

~o~

 

Bard is high on life.

 

The weather is perfect, he is in good health and his children are happy.

 

All is well in the world.

 

He jumps out of the car and runs into his apartment building. It's raining buckets and even his hasty retreat into cover doesn't prevent his being soaked from head to toe.

 

Mr. Gandalf from 4B scowls heavily at him. Bard smiles sunnily at the elderly man and wishes him a good day.

 

He sneezes mightily even as he swipes his hair off his face.

 

The dark haired man takes the stairs by the twos towards his apartment unit and unlocks his door in record time.

 

He finds his children at first glance, seemingly ready to go. It's only as he emerges from his bedroom after changing and toweling his hair that he notices Tilda is sat in a corner, holding her toy dragon, Mr. Smaug. It's old and ratty, with burn marks along it's tail from an unfortunate toaster accident. It's the last thing her mother bought her, and therefore holds a special place in his little girls heart.

 

It also only comes out when she's feeling upset.

 

He could go in immediately concerned as is his first instinct, but unfortunately all his children have inherited his aversion to looking vulnerable. Tilda, most especially.

 

Casually, Bard takes a seat beside his youngest. He uses the cover of putting on his shoes before he innocently puts out feelers as to what is bothering his daughter.

 

"Excited to go see Legolas again?"

 

"I guess." His daughter worries at Mr. Smaug's uneven wing.

 

"You guess? Didn't you like it at Thranduil's last time?" Bard tries to ask gently, he wants to know what the problem is and fix it, he hates seeing any of his children sad. But Bard knows there are some things he can't make better just because he wants to. He hopes this is not one of it.

 

But Tilda only shakes her head and goes over to Sigrid, her brown hair -wild as usual- swinging behind her.

 

Sigrid looks at him in concern, and he is tempted to cancel their trip so he can focus on Tilda.

 

In that moment Bain comes crashing into the room, trying and failing to both wear his jacket and knitted cap.

 

"Let's go! Legolas said we can play with his practice bow the next time we meet! And Da, you said you'd teach us too! "

 

Bard sighs, it would be a shame if he canceled now, and he did promise to show them some skills. He vows to take Tilda aside in the future.

 

"I'll teach you both, if it stops raining. If not, we'll have to postpone.” But Bain has long stopped listening an is already running to the front door.

 

There's nothing much to do but to follow in his children's wake.

 

~o~

 

He can't stop his excitement at seeing Thranduil.

 

They did have that coffee-lunch-dinner-something. Bard had gone on a break and found Thranduil loitering around the ICU. Walking towards the cafe was again an exercise in self control in order not to grab Thranduil's hand or to grin like a fool.

 

There had been no awkward moments between them. Not even when in his enthusiasm, Bard had recommend the ham and cheese sandwich, along with their coffee, only to find out the blond preferred tea and was a vegetarian. He didn't even have time to stammer an apology before Thranduil was running a finger down his arm, assuring him that there was no harm done and obliterating his thought process at the same time.

 

Both of them had smiled at each other and spent a warm forty five minutes in each other's company and thereafter leaving the cafe with a silent agreement to keep seeing each other.

 

Four months, interacting at work, flurries of suggestive texts and calls, three meetings composed of both households and here they are, about to spend a rare coinciding day-off with the other and their family.

 

They haven't had sex again. Not that the attraction was gone, definitely not. They still watched each other in ways one would be hard-pressed to call platonic. And if the way Thranduil couldn't seem to keep his hands off Bard, and the way Bard in turn got semi-hard just at the sight of the blond we're taken into account, they both were moments from jumping each other's bones.

 

So no, it wasn't a problem with wanting the other, but more that they both realized they we're in a precipice of something great.

 

Both men had loved before and lost those loves. Having found a person they could... __Care__ for again, had them both proceeding cautiously.

 

They come up at Thranduil's stately home. If he ever pictured the type of house the other man would call home, it would be like this.

 

The house was large and radiated welcome. It was made mostly of dark wood and strategically placed marble and gave the illusion of being one with the woods surrounding it. The exotic garden and extensive backyard that merged into the forest behind the house only strengthened the image.

 

It looks even more beautiful in the aftermath of rain, the abundant foliage sparkling becomingly.

 

They'd hardly parked when Legolas comes running towards them. His hair, just as light as his father glints in the emerging sun.

 

Bain and Legolas have dashed through the still open front door even before Bard has exited the car.

 

Sigrid follows much more sedately and Bard is again struck with concern when a normally boisterous Tilda waits for him and somberly walks towards the house.

 

He considers inquiring again about her mood, but they've come upon Thranduil standing at the door, smiling them in. Bard thinks Tilda would not appreciate being called out before another adult.

 

Thranduil smiles down at Tilda and leads them past a tastefully decorated hallway all the way into the den.

 

The den is probably the Bard's favorite part of Thranduil's house that he has seen so far. It's decorated in soothing greens and rich browns that makes one feel like they're within a heart of tree. Over all, it’s much more intimate and comfortable than the formal sitting room they passed.

 

He watches as Thranduil asks after Tilda and if she would like a snack and maybe a movie. His heart swells with emotion and fondness for the blond.

 

They've told both their respective children about their relationship and so far all the children seem to be taking well. Bain is ecstatic about the prospect of a brother, while Sigrid had taken Bard aside and gave him the blessing -what a role reversal- telling him he deserved to find someone, that she approved of Thranduil and definitely won't think he's replacing their mother.

 

Needless to say, Bard had tried hard not to tear up and instead channeled his emotions into pulling his daughter into a enthusiastic hug and peppering her face with kisses that left her squirming away.

 

Tilda though... Tilda hasn't said anything and Bard is scared she was against his relationship with the other man.

 

When Thranduil has settled Tilda with __How to Train Your Dragon__ \- and really Thranduil is a natural, he never mentioned that it was Tilda's favourite - he comes over to Bard.

 

Bard's heart races as he watches Thranduil approach, dressed in a loose metal coloured sweater that brought out his eyes and white linen trousers, he's everything Bard ever wanted.

 

"Hello, Bard." Thranduil's voice, as intoxicating as always, combined with his proximity has Bard getting light headed.

 

"Thranduil." The dark haired man takes a moment to observe the other's face, taking in the soft welcoming smiles, bright blue eyes and flushed cheeks.

 

Their lips meet in a kiss so sweet that Bard's arm slips through Thranduil's waist and his fingers curl in the soft knitted fabric.

 

They separate much too soon for Bard's liking, but he's highly aware that Tilda is nearby. A certain type of decorum must be kept.

 

"You are all staying for the night as agreed?" Thranduil looks delighted at Bard's assent. If Bard had any other plans, he'd have canceled it just to keep Thranduil looking like that.

 

They're both distracted by the explosions coming from the gigantic TV in the den. Thranduil glances back at Tilda before turning a pensive frown on Bard.

 

"Is Tilda well? She is usually much livelier than this."Thranduil has an endearing wrinkle between his lovely brows. Bard would like to focus on it, if the topic of conversation wasn't so distressing.

 

"I don't know. She seemed fine these past few days. I can't imagine what could cause her to act like this. She wouldn't tell me anything." Bard worries at his scruffy chin.

 

Thranduil nods at this. He looks like he's thinking about something, so Bard waits.

 

"Do you... Is it alright... Would you like for me to speak to her?" Thranduil anxiously watched for Bard’s reaction. "She might confide in me. If not, at the very least I'd like her to know she can speak to me anytime and that I care... "

 

There really is no other response to that, other than to drag the blond, perfect man into a kiss.

 

When he has reddened Thranduil's lips sufficiently, Bard says yes.

 

~o~

 

Cuddling with Bard is an unparalleled experience. He never thought he'd get to know such intimacy again. He feels warm and content, tucked up against the other man's tanned body, with Bard's fingers carding through his hair, sending him into a light doze.

 

He forces himself to rise, once Tilda's movie is done. He did tell Bard he would speak to his daughter.

 

Once Thranduil is done braiding back his hair - Bard does so love his hair- he invites Tilda to join him in his gardening. He says that he has been meaning to show her his flowers, and that he thinks she would like them.

 

She is hesitant at first, but at the nod from Bard she goes with him bringing with her the stuffed toy he now identifies as a dragon.

 

They walk past the ground floor library where Sigrid waves at them through the open door and come upon a glass door through which they go through.

 

They cross through the backyard until they reach a greenhouse, where some of Thranduil’s greatest treasure reside.

 

“I keep my favourite flowers here. You see, most of them require special temperatures and conditions so they stay alive. Would you like to see them?”

 

At Tilda’s agreement, he opens the greenhouse’s door and guides her in.

 

He hears Tilda gasp.

 

"Do you like them?" The child nods vigorously, her eyes wide in wonder.

 

Thranduil tries to see his garden from her eyes. He can see why she is impressed. The door has opened into a striking stone pathway arranged into geometric shapes that branch off to different sections of the greenhouse.

 

It is the content, however, of the place that has Tilda enthralled, for the greenhouse is fairly bursting with colour from the abundant number of orchids Thranduil owns.

 

"Come then, let me show you more. "

 

The orchids are arranged on both sides of the pathway, and as they go from flower to flower, he points out facts about them, just enough to keep her interested. There is not much need to spout so much information as Tilda enamored by each flower she sees. She nearly wiggles in delight when he picks up some fallen flowers and place them in her hands. When he tells her that the Vanilla flavor come from orchids, her sparkling eyes nearly pop out with how much they widened.

 

They reach the center of the greenhouse where a layered circular fountain is bubbling away. He pulls her to sit at the one of the benches arranged around the fountain.

 

When they are both seated, he begins telling about the flowers in her hand.

 

“I did not just randomly pick those flowers I gave you Tilda.” She looks up at him curiously.

 

“No? Then why did you give them to me, Mr Thranduil?”

 

Thranduil smiles at her. “It is because you remind me of my late wife. She loved flowers so much, particularly orchids.” Thranduil watches as Tilda sets down her stuffed dragon to slowly finger the flowers in her hand.

 

“But for some reason, she completely failed at growing orchids. No matter what she did, she could not make them grow and stay healthy. She was so frustrated that she would come in from gardening and sulk the whole day. Foolishly, I may have implied that __it could not be that hard__ and that she __must be doing something wrong.__ ”

 

Tilda is now staring at him in rapt interest.

 

“Of course she was angry at me, and in return, she challenged me to do better. I believe her exact words were ‘ __if you think you are so good, then you try growing them, you berk!’”.__ Tilda giggles and Thranduil smiles at her feeling elation run through him.

 

“Not wanting to look even more foolish I agreed. Orchids were much more intricate than what I thought. But eventually I succeeded in growing them. My wife was so happy, she forgot to be angry at my, technically, besting her.”

 

“She sounded fun.” Thranduil smiles sadly at her. “Yes she did. Much more fun than I will ever be.”

 

Tilda scoots closer to him and shakes her head emphatically. “But you are also fun Mr. Thranduil! And very nice and pretty too.” She smiles so sincerely at him that he can not stop the laugh that escapes him.

 

“You really are sweet, Tilda. That also brings me to the next reason why I gave those flowers for you. Here, let me tell you.”

 

He points to the first orchid, “Orchids represent calm, beauty and love. But their colours express more." Thranduil lifts a up a flower, twirling it at he speaks. "Red orchids mean strength and courage, just like your name. " He watches as Tilda blushes bright red at his words.

 

"White orchids mean elegance and innocence, while blue means rarity, and the orange mean enthusiasm and and boldness, all these I see in you, dear Tilda. "

 

He picks up the yellow orchid, "And finally dear Tilda, yellow orchids represent joy, new beginnings and friendship. I wish for us to have this. "

 

Tilda has her head bowed, so he continues to speak. "Your dad and I, we like each other. There is a chance we could all live together, and I want us to be comfortable with each other. "

 

 

Tilda jumps up, and Thranduil is alarmed to see the tears sparkling in her eyes.

 

"But you can't like me! We can't be friends! "

 

The tears and the clear distress in the child before him, compels Thranduil to do something. " Tilda, why can we not be friends? Is there something wrong? "

 

Tilda raises a hand to wipe at her eyes, letting forth a stream of words. "You don't need me. Sigrid is 16 and pretty and she's really old already!" The girl hiccups, "A-and Bain and Legolas are best friends. You also have Pa. I'm just a baby, too small and useless. So we can't be friends! But I want to be friends with you!"

 

Thranduil's heart breaks. He was always aware that bringing in a new person into a family could shift the balance of the said family. It is part of the reason why he never pursued a relationship after his wife's death. He wanted to avoid upsetting Legolas with the change in family dynamics that having a new lover could cause. He understood all too well how much being unsure about your place in life can hurt.

 

But with Bard, Thranduil is willing to gamble. So he tries now to reassure this precious little girl as much as he can.

 

He had a soft spot for Tilda, the moment he met her. She was all smiles and laughter so bright that she could lift his spirits up with one word. He hates to see her so insecure in her place in life.

 

"Oh Tilda, come here, dear child. Listen to me carefully. " He retrieves a handkerchief from his pocket and cleans her face. That done, he pulls her to him and tucks her into his side.

 

"Tilda, being a family, or being friends has nothing to do with your usefulness or what you can do for people. What matters is that you care for and love the people you call family and friends. What matters is that you think of them first when you are happy and want them to join you in the things you love. It matters that you call them when you are sad, and that you trust them to help to feel better. Understand, Tilda?"

 

She squeezes at the toy in her hand. "B-but every one has someone and I don't. Sigrid doesn't count cause she's really strong and doesn't need to be taken care off, like me."

 

"But we do need you Tilda. Being young is not a bad thing. I wanted to have another child you know. In fact my wife and I wanted more children and Legolas wanted siblings. Sadly it did not happen." Thranduil raises his hand to run his hand through Tilda's baby soft hair. "And now that I have been lucky enough to be given a chance to have the big family I always wanted, I intend to treasure each of you. "

 

Thranduil turns Tilda around, "You need not believe me right now, only time will show you I speak the truth." An idea comes to the blond man, making him smile as he proposes it. "How about we learn things about to each other? Maybe after we know things about each other, you can consider me as your best friend just like Legolas is to Bard."

 

Tilda raises her hand to rub at her red rimmed eyes. "How do we do that? "

 

"Well, we should start small. See my braids? I can do the same for your hair. After that, you can show me what you like, and I can get to learn them too. That way we have things in common and we get to know about each other and be real friends. What do you say?"

 

"I like your braids, Mr Thranduil. You have very pretty hair.” She smiles through her sniffles.

 

He guides her around so he can get at her thick wayward hair. He smooths it, taking out the tangles and starts twisting it into simple but flattering plait. All the while he slowly coaxes her until she goes from hesitant short sentences to her usual rambling, happy speech.

 

Thranduil knows this issue is not completely resolved, it is bound to come up again, and he hopes when it does, he can deal with it better.

 

For now, he relishes this peace he has reached with her.

 

~o~

 

Thranduil finds it almost impossible to catch his breath.

 

Bard would not let him. He is kissing Thranduil so forcefully, the blond can do nothing but hold on.

 

Dinner with the children and Bard was marvelous. Thranduil thinks it was due to the lasagna he made with spinach and artichoke that all of his guests deemed delicious. Or it could have been the result of the laughter and conversation his large house rarely sees.

 

Possibly it might have to do with how Bard had beamed at him when he came back with Tilda, hair braided and smiling widely.

 

It definitely had a lot to do with Bard’s greedy, furtive gazes all through out the dinner and the movie they shared with the children.

 

Hot, burning gazes that he only managed to conceal from the kids surrounding them.

 

It was sweet torture to restrict himself to only teasing Bard in return.

 

Come to think of it, his teasing might be the reason Bard is nearly feral in his desire tonight. Also their celibacy from these past four months could be reason as well.

 

Thinking of how long it has been since that one perfect night with Bard has Thranduil pushing the former unto the bed.

 

Bard breathes heavily as he lands in a sitting position. “Strip Bard. I want to suck your cock.”

 

The said man lets out a hissed __fuck__ and complies in a gratifyingly hasty fashion. Thranduil is on his knees the moment Bard is naked. His lover is as gorgeous as last time he saw him like this. All bronze skin and dark hair, even more beautiful in contrast to Thranduil. He runs appreciative hands down Bard’s firm abdomen, all the way down to towards trail of hair that leads to Bard’s lovely, thick cock.

 

He takes his time. Scratching at the trimmed hair around Bard’s cock, pressing his face against the crease of his lover’s thigh. Nuzzling the heavy balls beneath the cock in his hand. He follows it up with kisses along Bard’s shaft all the way towards it leaking head.

 

“Thranduil, please.”

 

Bard’s breathy plea has Thranduil opening his eyes to gaze at into Bard’s eye. He already looks wrecked, completely enthralled at the blond’s actions. He licks at the copious pre-ejaculate dripping from Bard’s cock, following it to the opening and smoothly swallows Bard’s cock down.

Bard gives guttural cry, thighs straining in the effort not fuck into Thranduil’s mouth. He is much more considerate than Thranduil was when their position was reversed.

 

He feels careful hands slide into his hair, holding his head and occasionally massaging. Thranduil squeezes Bard’s thigh, pleased. Bard is so good to him. Gentle even in his passion. Thranduil can not help but reward him. He relaxes his throat and takes Bard deeper, covering the remaining length of his cock with his hand. With that done, he sets about pleasuring Bard, swirling his tongue, swallowing around the glans and using his other hand to fondle the drawn up scrotum.

 

He lets Bard slowly thrust into his mouth. The pace is languid, almost hypnotizing and Thranduil closes his eyes. He loose himself in the feel of Bard and how much he fills his mouth, the scent of sex and arousal so thick in this position, the sensual feeling of saliva pooling in his mouth and sliding through his lips. He is deaf to everything but the sounds of pleasure and gratification he lover gives.

 

He is so enraptured that it takes Bard tenderly pulling him off before he registers that he is being spoken to. He opens his eyes to Bard’s words, “Thranduil, baby, come up here, okay?” The moment has the sensation of molasses. Slow and sticky, Thranduil can only let himself be rid of his clothes. It only when he is being positioned above Bard, his legs parted around the latter’s head that he understands what is going on.

 

Bard takes him into his mouth and expertly sucks at it. Thranduil can not help the shuddering moan he releases.

 

He gathers himself and goes back to sucking at Bard. If it felt good to be on his kneed, pleasing Bard with his mouth, it is even better when he does so with Bard returning the favour at the same time.

Bard -perfect Bard- ups the ante by rubbing at his entrance with wet fingers. Thranduil is wound up, that it only takes a hint of a finger breaching him and his coming hard and sloppy into his lover’s mouth, calling Bard’s name in ecstasy.

 

When he can breathe and the shivers that rack his body abates, he resumes sucking at Bard, until he too comes. The taste of Bard and sound of his sobbing his release almost induces a second orgasm in him.

 

He musters the strength to turn around and crawl towards Bard, exchanging sated kisses that taste of both them before he curl into each other and fall asleep.

 

~o~

 

He’s reluctant to wake. Bard feels delicious. His body is warm and content, snuggled in the heavenly soft sheaths and fluffy pillows. His general contentedness so early in the morning is so foreign that it allows the memories of the night before to trickle back.

 

He opens his eyes just in time to catch the flutter of Thranduil’s lashes and the surprisingly cute pout that seems to be the beginnings of his waking up. He watches as his lover stretches and writhes, so pale skin on display, the blanket slipping down to expose rosy nipples. The early morning sun kisses Thranduil’s skin, making it look warm and even more inviting. His cock, hard from sleep, twitches in interest.

 

Any thoughts of arousal slip from his mind when Thranduil turns to him and smiles. “Good morning, Bard.” He looks like Bard’s very own angel, sleep soft and smiling like seeing Bard the first thing is all that he ever wanted.

 

“Morning, love.” The endearment leaves his lips without permission from his brain and it’s only the flush spreading through Thranduil’s pleased face that keeps Bard from taking it back, or your giving himself a slap or two.

 

By silent agreement they were taking it slow. Spilling his feelings, unchecked, first thing of what is only their second morning __is not the definition of slow.__

 

In an effort to move on from his slip Bard speaks. “Thank you for yesterday. You know, with Tilda.” Thranduil watches him for a while. The flush still lingers, making his striking eyes sparkle. Thranduil settles more on his side, tucking his hands beneath his head endearingly. “ I am happy I could help. Tilda is such a sweet girl, it saddened me to see her upset.”

 

Bard reaches out to traces the sides of the blond’s face, along his dark eyebrows, below his eyes, shapely cheekbones and along his plump lips. The rasp of stubble he can’t see is an added sensation he welcomes.

 

“Bard?” He hums in answer to Thranduil’s soft voice. “Do you think this would work?”

Bard takes a moment to consider. He knows what he feels. He’s been so lonely for so long that Bard would be grateful to anyone that takes that away. But Thranduil is not just anyone. Thranduil is beautiful and just looking at him makes Bard want to kiss him again and again, until their lips are raw, and their bodies sated. But his beauty is only the icing in the perfect cake he never knew he needed. For Thranduil is also smart and witty and kind. He was caring and competent in everything he did, from the way he dealt with his patients and their families, to his son Legolas, and as evidenced by his brilliance in dealing with Bard’s children.

 

He knows they would work. There’s a bubbling in his chest that makes him want to crush Thranduil to his chest and laugh in happiness. All these and more. Just a little more, and he knows this could turn to love. It might already be.

 

The words are crowding in his head and he doesn’t know how to say them. Nevertheless, he tries. “Yes, I think this can work. We only have to try. There’s something there, Thranduil, and I want to know where it would lead.”

 

Thranduil nods, “I feel the same, Bard. What I feel for you is… it is stronger than what I have felt for a long time. I too want to see where it goes.”

 

The breath catches in Bard’s throat at Thranduil’s admission. The kiss the blond initiates succeeds in making Bard breathless. It goes on for so long that they’re nearly lost, it not for the sounds of giggles and the unmistakable sounds of running feet.

 

They part with amused smiles. “It seems we’ll have to put morning sex on hold.”

 

“Indeed, Bard.” Bard watches transfixed as Thranduil gracefully rises to saunter towards the en suite bathroom. His lithe form is breathtaking, especially his delectable arse, mesmerizing as it shifts each step Thranduil takes. It takes him an embarrassing amount of time to raise his eyes to Thranduil’s face. The mischievous smile gracing his lover’s lips has Bard sitting up in anticipation.

 

“I believe we would save time if we shared a shower. What do you think, Bard?”

 

Bard nearly brains himself in his haste to follow Thranduil.

 

He is so grateful he made that impulsive decision to go out that fateful night.     

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first fic. In my life. Haha. I hope you guys enjoyed it.
> 
> Comments and kudos are very much welcome <3


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